Get a Clue
by gryffindorable23
Summary: Sasha Scarlet is the queen bee of Body High. Percival Plum is a nerd who lives for trig class. Malcolm Mustard is the quarterback and school jock. Peyton Peacock is the captain of the girls' soccer team. Wilma White is an outcast. Gunner Green has a tough life that no one seems to notice. When they're suspects of a fellow classmate's death, all of Body High will wonder whodunnit?
1. Chapter 1 - To Go Or Not To Go

**Scarlet's POV**

I groan as my alarm clock dings me awake. I yawn, longing to stay in bed until I remember that this is the day of Derek's party. Music, movies, friends, staying up and staying out way too late for my parents' liking; the usual. Why he would invite me after he cheated on my sister? Beats me. But hey, he does have a six pack.

I let my plump lips slither into a smirk, imagining what I'll say to him at the party. I bite my lip, picturing him taking me upstairs, far away from any of the other guests. Shaking my head, my fantasy disappears, and I rush downstairs to make myself an omelette. Extra cheesy, just the way I like it.

I fasten my seatbelt and drive off to school, getting my flowy red dress stuck in the door and, to be honest, probably speeding. As if I care. I spent way too long creating the perfect smokey eye and praying to God it would last at least somewhat until Derek's party. Touch ups are inevitable, but it wouldn't hurt to start without a black canvas. I pull into the parking lot of Body High, my boring high school. I sigh in relief when I realize I'm not late after all and apply my lipstick carefully while parked in the school parking lot, painting my kisser with a blood red hue.

Go ahead Derek, just try to stay away.

 **Mustard's POV**

Struggling to focus on calculus, I can't stop thinking about my big game tomorrow. How will I go to Derek's party and get a good night's sleep so I can play well? I am the quarterback, after all.

"Mr. Mustard? Do you know the answer?"

"Malcolm! She's talking to you, bro."

Derek's voice quickly pulls me out of me worries. "U-um, the answer, Mrs. Wellburg, oh yes, um… the answer is 54."

"That is incorrect. Mr. Plum?"

Percival Plum props up his glasses on his thin, freckled nose. "The answer is 69." A few kids chuckle. "At least I got it right, pervs."

"Yes, Mr. Plum, that is correct. Once again a stellar student."

Stellar? What kind of person uses the word stellar? Honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm in one of these iconic, stereotypical teen films. We've got labels for everyone, me, a jock, Percival, a nerd (how could anyone named Percival _not_ be a nerd), Sasha Scarlet, oh, Sasha Scarlet, the beautiful, wonderful popular girl who just so happens to have her eyes on Derek. I may just have to change that. And now we have to add lame teachers to the mix? At least Mr. Gills, the social studies teacher, is a pretty fun, chill guy.

I close my eyes and imagine the party. My friends and I, playing music and staying up late, and Sasha will be there, Sasha with her bright blue eyes, thick red lips, and flowing brown hair. Sasha, my never ending fantasy.

Who cares about the big game? I'll sleep when I'm dead.

 **White's POV**

To go or not to go. That was the question. To be honest, I really did want to go the party, but what if Derek saw me there?

I knew half the school would be there, how could I be any different? He doesn't care who comes to his parties, especially when his parents are out, "having their own fun in their Hawaii beach house," as he likes to call it, but what can I say? I'm the weird back of the class girl. Not exactly creepy, I'm not goth or emo or anything like that, just weird. Few people understand the quiet, ghost-like girl who only wears white and has a poetry journal. Actually, make that no people. Nobody understands. And that's exactly why Derek would try to give me a hard time if he saw me "lurking around" at his party. But contrary to the common belief, I truly do enjoy the party scene. So am I willing to sacrifice my dignity for a little fun?

The truth? Well, you really can't blame me for thinking some things just might be easier without that Derek boy.

 **Peacock's POV**

I attempt to finish my homework quickly, legs still aching from soccer practice. Five subjects of homework in one weekend. If the calculations of Percival Plum - who I have every class with - are correct, that amounts to twelve and a half hours. Am I going to high school or prison?

I do admire his defiant spirit, though, arguing with the authorities that twelve and a half hours is far too much. Even nerds prefer to do all their work during the day and have _some_ free time.

I sigh. _Don't categorize him, Peyton._ But hey, like Malcolm always says, sometimes it's hard to not fall victim to teen stereotypes. Not like I pay any attention to what Malcolm always says.

Malcolm's like me - a jock. We're not exactly friends but… acquaintances. We know each other, but we rarely talk. He loves to watch all sports, even though he only plays football. And he has the common sense to know that girls can be just as good at sports as guys, which his half-brained friend Derek is a little late to pick up on. And he's pretty smart, too, which is definitely not a stereotypical popular guy/jock dude trait. Why do I know all of this? No reason. You know what, just forget I said anything.

And that's why I'm debating whether or not to go to Derek's party. That reminds me - I have debate team on Tuesday. Making tonight the only night this month that I'm free. I promised myself I would boycott Derek's sexist shenanigans where I'm surrounded by speakers blaring objectifying music and Derek himself trying to find any girl that looks like the girl described in the song to take up to his bedroom. But then again, I do enjoy parties, and most of my soccer friends are going. I walk over to my bulletin board and open my calendar.

April 9th - that dumb tool's party.

 **Green's POV**

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor," I say gratefully as the wrinkled woman hands me a twenty-dollar bill.

"Oh, don't thank me, Gunner. I've been needing my lawn mowed for weeks! You're such a generous child. They just don't make teens like you anymore." Her accent makes my name sound like Gunna instead of Gunner.

"Thank you, ma'am. That means a lot."

"Now what did I say about thanking me?" She replies with a chuckle. I laugh back in response.

"Now you have a nice day. Feel free to stop by whenever you like. I make cookies every Sunday."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Taylor. May I ask, what kind of cookies?"

"Chocolate chip, my dear."

"My favorite. Thank you for the offer. I'll think about coming by this weekend." With that I walk off, making a mental note of the cookies. If I asked to take some home with me, I could start a bake sale. Shady, I know, but hey, I need the cash. Badly. And after all, chocolate chip actually is my favorite.

I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out to reveal a text from my buddy Dan.

 _Are you coming to Derek's party tonight?_

Confused, I text back as quickly as I can. _What? No way! I never talk to him, we're in completely different social circles, and he's a racist! Plus, I have a curfew, man._

 _I heard they're making bets on who will end up with who by the end of the night. You know, money bets._

 _So... gambling? Really dude?_

His next text takes me aback and I gulp, denying what I deep down know is true.

 _We both know you need it._

 **Plum's POV**

When my French class finally ends, I hurry through the hallway, grab my phone and backpack from my locker, and head onto bus number 102.

I sit silently on my phone on the bus ride home. My girl friend - mind the space - Lucy is blowing it up with messages about the party.

 _Why won't you come?_

I sigh. Can't I just not want to come? _Why would we go to a party when we're not invited? Plus, Derek hates us!_

 _Listen, doofus, I know we're not popular but don't you at least know how popular kids work? There's no invitations. Whoever comes, comes. Do you think he'll notice if we're there? And do you honestly think he'll give a crap?_

Huh. I hadn't thought of that. _Well when you say it that way…_

 _Well I'm coming whether you are or not. Consider it, Percy._

 _I will._

And it's not a lie. I do consider it. And at 8:00 that night, I find myself at Derek Jansen's huge, stupid house, knocking on the big wooden door.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Arrival

**Chapter Two - The Arrival**

 **Scarlet's POV**

I show up to the party half an hour early, the first one there. Just the way I had planned.

"Hey!" I say seductively, "Need any help getting ready?"

"Nah, nah, I'm pretty sure I'm good. But thanks for showing up early. That's really cool of you, Sash."

"Oh, um, okay." Yeah, because this totally wasn't my plan at all. "Um, is there anything else you want to do?"

"Hehe, I'll think about it. Have some snacks, sweetcheeks. Okay?"

I sigh. "Okay." I pick up a potato chip and slip it between my red lips, satisfied by the crunch. "Good chips."

"Thanks."

"So…"

"So…"

There's a knock at the door. I open it to see the pale, ghastly face of Wilma White. Ugh. I forgot she was coming.

"I-I'm going to go to the bathroom," she stutters and hurries off immediately. I roll my eyes.

"Weirdo."

"I know right."

Another knock. Derek goes to open the door.

"Malcolm! Bro, you made it!"

"Of course! I couldn't let my bro down! Hey, Sash! Um, how're you doing, girl?" He gives me a flirtatious smirk and I smirk back. Maybe that'll get stupid Derek's attention. Guys are driven by jealousy, right? After all, they only want the most sought after prize.

"Doin' fine? And you?" Okay, so maybe I don't have any interest in Malcolm, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"Good. Yeah."

Ha. It's funny to see the school jock so awkward. I guess that's just the effect Miss Sasha Scarlet can have. Suddenly I remember Wilma White, who's been in the bathroom for at least fifteen minutes. "Oh, and Wilma's here."

"So?"

To an extent, I admire his lack of judgement. He's a nice guy, not shallow like me, and is much more accepting of everyone and everything. But he doesn't know what I've been through with Wilma. To be frank, no one does.

"Just saying," I smirk, "Good luck putting up with that." I playfully punch his shoulder in an attempt to be flirtatious.

"Ow!"

I sigh provocatively and saunter over to the couch to sit next to Derek. "Man up, quarterback." Winking, I lay my head on Derek's shoulder.

 **Mustard's POV**

Oh dear lord. Here I am, the school jock and the quarterback of the football team, losing my mind over Sasha Seduction Scarlet. It's not just that, though. I mean yes, _she_ can be shallow, but I'm not. At times she can be really sweet, which I like. It's not just her body or her master flirting skills or her full red lips. When she drops the queen bee act, she can be a really cool girl. I can't dare to say she doesn't have an effect on me.

And here I am, staring in awe at this seemingly flawless girl, in my best friend's living room while she lays her head on his shoulder. Honestly, of all people, why him?

At least they're not dating. Derek's told me many times that he can't imagine having feelings for Sasha. But he also says that he has to keep a long "potential mess-around-with list". By long I mean including basically every girl in school except for Wilma White - the ghostly, almost ethereal - girl who it's safe to say is aptly named, Peyton Peacock, basically the female equivalent of me who's, in Derek's words, is "way too much of a tomboy" (and basically all of the girl's soccer team, to be honest), and Lucy Ramirez, whose best friend is Percival Plum. Knowing Derek, it's not surprising who's not on the list, and it's not surprising that virtually everyone else is.

As much as I love Derek (in a platonic way, of course), he can be a little bit of a jerk. He's rude to anyone who isn't popular like us. I mean, that one time I cheated off of Percival on my ninth grade biology test, I at least payed him for the answers. And again, I would've had the time to study if Derek wasn't throwing another one of his stupid parties. And now he's stealing my girl? I sigh as I make my way to Derek's kitchen, grabbing some chips and some carrots from the veggie tray, eyes straying to the knife lying idly on the counter.

 **White's POV**

I didn't have time to do my makeup at home, my family was hogging the bathroom - my dad had to shower, my sister was touching up her own makeup. So I had to do it at the party. I excused myself to the bathroom, already feeling a panic attack coming on from being the second guest there. The whole point was so Derek wouldn't notice me because there would already be the better half of Body High there. Or the worst half, to be honest.

I don't wear a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and a pale pink matte lipstick. Things you pick up on when you have an older sister. Shoot. I forgot my eyelash curler. I knew I was forgetting something. I use the restroom after applying my usual makeup, take a deep breath, and walk back out to the other guests.

When I'm back in Derek's living room, I see Sasha Scarlet on Derek's couch, with her head lying on his shoulder, and Malcolm Mustard in the kitchen chomping on a carrot. Maybe it's just my imagination, but he looks kind of upset about something. And I know it's my imagination when I see him wave at me. The quarterback of the football team? Waving at me? No way. I wouldn't care if he did anyway. I'm not mesmerized by him like that Peyton girl on the soccer team, who never will admit it.

Almost as if reading my mind - and just trying to embarrass me - Derek chimes in with a, "Maybe I should put you two together in the bets, huh? Of who will end up together by the end of the night. Imagine it. The quarterback and the ghost girl. Isn't that what you identify as? Not completely human, right? Too bad for you, Malcolm. If she's not human, it's technically illegal." He winks at Malcolm who simply glares back, and I hear Sasha giggle into his shirt.

"I-" I stutter, but before I know it Malcolm speaks up.

"Oh, c'mon, Derek. If we got together by the end of the night - which would never happen - it would be pure and emotional, not just physical. Not, as _I_ like to call it, the Derek way."

Derek scowls. "It was a joke, bro."

"Yeah, get it together, Mustard," Sasha says, half in a joking, provocative way, and half serious.

I'm about to stand up for Malcolm the way he did for me when there is a knock at the door.

 **Peacock's POV**

So yeah, maybe I hate Derek. And maybe I don't love parties as much as him or Malcolm or Sasha, but it's good to just let loose every once in awhile. To not have to deal with soccer practice, which admittedly I do love, or hours of annoying homework, or a bunch of other clubs and extracurriculars that sound like a good idea at first and end up driving me crazy in a matter of weeks. So for some reason, I decide to go. What're the odds of encountering Derek himself anyway?

Kara, my best friend (who I made through soccer, of course), said she'd drive me because I don't have my own car and my parents are going to be out of town, but she has to go to her little brother's dance recital tonight. It's okay, though. Derek's house is only a few blocks away, which I know because it's right next to Malcolm's, so I can just take my bicycle over. I mean yeah, I'll be pretty sweaty by the time I get there, but at least my soccer jersey's sleeveless. I couldn't be bothered to put on anything dressier. And after all, I know half of Derek's guests will be sweaty for much worse reasons.

When I finally get there, I'm unpleasantly surprised to see that I'm one of the first there. I'm greeted - if you can even call it that - by Sasha Scarlet.

I sigh, staring at the ground. "Hi, Sasha."

"Hey, wannabe jock girl." She smirks seductively at me and even though I know she's just trying to make my night miserable, something about the way she's looking at me feels a bit flirtatious. I feel my heart speed up, and my breath gets caught in my throat when she bites her lip due to something offensive about me Derek calls out from a few feet away, which I'm too distracted and mortified to hear.

"Come on in!" Wilma White pipes up, her greeting the first genuine one of the night. Though it's barely louder than a whisper, I think that it might be the loudest I've ever heard her talk.

"T-thank you." I smile at her and glare at Derek and Sasha, then at the final person in the house, before I realize that the person I'm glaring at is Malcolm Mustard.

He flashes me a charming smile, and I smile back, attempting to say, "Sorry!" simply through a facial expression. He waves a hand at me, seeming to say, "It's alright."

I make my way to a rocking chair in the corner of the room, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I fiddle with my jersey until I hear a knock at the door. I open it to reveal the anxious-looking face of Gunner Green.

 **Green's POV**

I really, really, _really_ , did not want to come to this party. But Dan's coming, and I am in desperate need for money. As much as I have against Derek, I really need the dough.

"Hi Gunner!" Peyton Peacock says enthusiastically.

"Hey Peyton."

"What's up?"

"This, I guess."

"Well come on in!"

I walk into Derek's huge living room where him and Sasha Scarlet are cuddling on the couch, and Wilma White and Malcolm Mustard are sat at opposite ends of another couch.

"Hey chocolate boy!" Derek calls at me, referring to my ethnicity and not even looking back to face me. I curse at him under my breath, but not loud enough for him to hear. I don't need a black eye. But seriously, wasn't this BS supposed to end in the 60s with Martin Luther King Jr? Even Sasha gives him a disgusted look, which I'm surprised by, considering she almost always goes along with his offensive schemes. Peyton flips him off.

"Oh, keep your mouth shut, jock girl! Go get in the kitchen, have a burger or something, and don't forget to make me one when you're done."

"Did you hear me talk? Also, I'm a vegetarian, you dweeb!" she shouts back.

"Well someone's on her rag."

"And you're telling her to shut _her_ mouth?" Malcolm mutters.

"What'd you say, bro?"

"N-nothing."

"That's what I thought."

And with that, a throng of party animal teenagers burst through the door. Standing only a few steps into Derek's house, I practically get trampled by the stampede. So much for not getting a black eye.

 **Plum's POV**

When I walk in, the house is crowded with hundreds of teenagers. I recognize a few, Rosie Burke and Peyton Peacock from the girl's soccer team, with the rest of the team crowded around them, most of which I barely recognize, Gunner Green chatting with Dan Levine, Malcolm Mustard playing pool with some other guys from the football team, Wilma White standing by herself in a corner. Despite how odd she is, Wilma is actually pretty attractive. Her wispy figure is quite cute when you look close enough. Nothing compared to the curvaceous Sasha Scarlet, of course, who's flirting it up with Derek himself, but she's still something. Before I head upstairs to try to find Lucy, I realize that the two girls, seemingly so different, have the same bright blue eyes.

I hurry upstairs, getting punch spilled on my purple polo by some guy with blond spiky hair. Or at least I hope that's punch.

I find Lucy in the third bedroom on my right. Seriously, why does this guy have to have so many bedrooms? That's when I remember he has three older brothers, probably at their own parties. Lucy's sitting on the bed, blowing out a candle and setting the candlestick back on a tall white dresser.

"Hey, I may hate him, but I don't want his house setting on fire with all of us in it."

I chuckle. "Hey, Luce."

"Having fun, Percy?"

"Only now that I found you. It's like a trainwreck down there."

"I know, right?" she says, running her slim fingers through her jet black hair. "But let me tell you, we won't be having the same kind of fun those doofuses are."

"Good!" I cry, my eyes widening. "I mean - I didn't mean it like - Luce, you're like a sister to me so…"

She giggles. "Yeah. Don't be worried, Perc. I wasn't offended. After all, you're definitely not the first guy to say that."

We both laugh, and she lays her head on my shoulder. For once we have the privacy to not look like a couple when we're really just best friends. And if someone walks in, who cares? We're both used to the teasing. And God knows there are much worse things to walk in on during Derek's parties.


	3. Chapter 3 - Wanna Bet?

**Scarlet's POV**

I keep trying to flirt with Derek, to no avail. How can I have Malcolm so hooked and Derek barely knows I exist? I sigh and pour myself a small glass of whatever alcohol is sitting on Derek's kitchen counter. Malcolm's playing pool in the other living room, there's one on either side of the kitchen. I pull out my phone and text my friend Cherry.

 _Where are you?_

 _OMG, you actually went to that party? I thought you were kidding._

 _Kidding? You know how I feel!_

 _Yeah, but you know he doesn't feel the same way! Then again, things could take a more physical turn…_

 _Shut up._

 _Good luck ;)_

I shove my phone back in my purse and eat a crappy store bought cookie from the box lying on the counter. Cherry was supposed to be my wing woman. We've both known Derek since we were little. It was always the four of us - me, Derek, Malcolm, and Cherry. Well, technically, we met Malcolm freshman year, but it feels like we've been together forever. There was a fifth kid, too, but we all cut ties with her after eighth grade. Even in kindergarten, my biggest priority was getting Derek to notice me. You know, when I think about it that way, it sounds pretty awful. But whatever. Derek is my soulmate. I won't have it any other way.

I briefly go upstairs to see what everyone's doing up there, but all the doors are closed. I wonder why.

I walk back downstairs to see Derek waiting for me.

"Hey sweetcheeks! You gonna place a bet or what?"

"A bet?'

"Yeah. On, ya know, who will get together by the end of tonight. Whatever definition of together you choose to think." He winks, and I feel butterflies in my stomach. "You can vote on anyone. Well, anyone here at least. Just put your name on one side of the slip, and their names on the other. It can even be same sex if you're into that… stuff." He scrunches his nose when he says "stuff", as if it's a cuss word.

"Yeah. Um, sure."

"That'll be five dollars, pumpkin. I'm heading upstairs to see who else is here, but if you wanna hang, my room's the third one on the right." Another wink.

I lay a five dollar bill in his large, strong hand and head over to the table where the bets are being placed. I'm tempted to put in myself and Derek, to at the very least plant the idea in his head, but I have to write my name so I can get my money if I'm right. I could use Cherry's name so I don't end up with some random dweeb getting money for something they didn't even write, but Derek's smart enough to realize that Cherry isn't here. And he would never believe Malcolm would enter something like that, considering how obsessed with me he is. Obviously I can't enter my own name. I think of who I know is at the party, and my mind lands on Wilma White.

"Wilma White and Percival Plum. Dork number one and dork number two. Perfect." I bite my lip and put my slip of paper in the basket.

 **Mustard's POV**

I'm playing pool with some of my buds from football when I see Sasha flirting it up with Derek, _again_. I could've sworn I heard him call her pumpkin. Why does he have to be such a jerk? Hasn't he ever heard of the bro code? I remind myself that he has no real intent on dating her, which somehow makes me even more livid.

"Dude, are you okay?" my friend Brian asks

"Yeah. I'm fine," I reply, sounding a little more hostile than I had imagined I would.

"If you say so."

While my buddies take their turns, I find myself people watching. My eyes shift from guest to guest, no longer simply resting on Sasha. Percival's back downstairs, awkwardly hitting on the girl's soccer team. Rosie's looking at him like he's some alien, but Peyton's actually being quite friendly. Not like I didn't expect that. Peyton's friendly with everyone. She's just that kind of girl. She's got that sense of rage every jock must have, including myself, but like me she channels it into her sports and doesn't take it out on people. Well okay, maybe people like Derek, but does he even really count? I notice she's wearing her soccer jersey, similar to the football one I myself am wearing. Our school colors are blue and yellow, but the uniforms for the girl's sports have more blue while the boy's have more yellow. The bright blue really brings out her own blue in her sea colored, turquoise eyes, something I've never noticed before.

I take a swig of the small glass of vodka Brian poured me and take my turn. Time flies when you're examining other people, considering I have seven other guys playing, too. Yet when it's not my turn, my eyes drift back to the crowd once more.

 **White's POV**

I mostly spend my time walking around and eating from the veggie tray. I almost go up and talk to a few people, but most of them are popular kids or couples or both. I'm definitely too socially awkward for that. Ugh, why did I think it was a good idea to come? I remember what happened when I first arrived, and how Malcolm stood up for me. I should've left right then and there. And that's when I remember the bets.

I make my way to the bet table. I don't want to place a bet, but I wonder if anyone thought I would end up with somebody. Probably not. But hey, who knows?

Sifting through the slips, I can't find my name anywhere. Sasha and Derek, Sasha and Malcolm, Sasha and Brian, Cherry and Derek, Percival and Lucy. But then…

Taken aback by what the slip says, I gasp a little too loudly. _Wilma White and Percival Plum_ it reads. I turn the slip around to see who wrote it. The name I see surprises me even more.

Sasha Scarlet.

 **Peacock's POV**

I spend most of my time at the party talking with my soccer friends and a few girls from the girl's basketball team, as well as Percival, who's continually trying to hit on us. It doesn't bother me, I don't have anything against Percival and I would kind of consider us friends, but Rosie looks like there's a spider crawling up her arm. I wonder where his friend Lucy went. I used to think they were dating, which I was wrong about, but still - they seem attached at the hip.

I honestly don't know why he's so interested in what we're saying, considering we're playing Kiss, Marry, Kill using the male athletes in our school. I'm not exactly sure why they're only choosing the guys, I would be fine with both. Suddenly, I'm pulled out of my thoughts by Rosie's voice.

"Kiss Malcolm, marry Brian, and kill Derek. How about you, Pey?"

"Oh! Well kill Derek, obviously, though we probably shouldn't be saying that at his party. And u-um, I-I, kiss Brian, I guess, and um." I gulp. "Marry Malcolm."

"Ooh!" the girls tease.

I roll my eyes jokingly. "Oh, be quiet."

"Alright, Jessie, how about you?"

Gosh, I really hope no one heard that. Of course, I wouldn't _actually_ kill Derek, it was purely hypothetical, but I have the feeling that if anyone heard that it could get me in trouble later. Especially at his own party. And I really hope no one heard the part about Malcolm.

"Hey, Pey!" Rosie says, "Wanna go place some bets?"

"Rosie! Are you asking me to gamble?"

"C'mon, Pey! It'll be fun!"

I sigh. "Fine! Maybe you're right."

I walk over to the bet table, write my name on one side of the slip, and turn it around to the other to write two names. Sasha and Derek? Maybe. Rosie and Brian? Nah. Wilma and Lucy? Just not feeling it. What about Sasha and Gunner? They would be cute together. Unlikely, but it just feels right. So I write it down and place the slip in the basket.

 **Green's POV**

"So, you think she likes you?" Dan asks, referring to Mrs. Taylor's granddaughter who's around my age. She's a sophomore, I'm a junior.

"I dunno, man!"

"Well, do you like her?"  
"I-I don't know! I mean, I don't think so. I really don't think so. But anything's possible. I really don't know, man!"

"You should go for it, man!" He slips his fingers through his greased back blond hair with the hot pink streak that he got a few weeks ago. "That is, unless somebody paired you with someone else in the bets." He winks.  
"Aw man, I forgot about the bets!"

"Dude, that's why you're here! But don't worry, there's still time."

"Yeah, we should check it out now!"

We head over to the bet table, excited to make some dough. It's not like some little thing, though. I don't need it for some skateboard or iPhone, I really need it. I try to think of people who will probably end up together, but I can't think of anyone. Sasha and Derek, maybe. But I bet a lot of people have already placed bets on them. I'm still thinking by the time we end up at the table, while Dan pulls out slips from the basket, reading them.

"Dude, you won't believe this!"

"What is it?"

"Peyton thinks you'll end up with Sasha Scarlet!"

"Man, I wish! Sasha? Are you kidding?"

"Take a look if you don't believe me."

And there it is, Gunner Green and Sasha Scarlet. Plain as day. Huh. I wonder why Peyton would put that. Not that I'm complaining. That's when I remember the way Malcolm stood up to _Derek himself_ for her when I showed up. And the way she looked at him. It was kind of cute, how she pretended not to be mesmerized by him. I write down their names, put my slip in the basket, and slip a five dollar bill in the money basket.

 **Plum's POV**

Lucy told me to go downstairs and have some fun, even though she was staying upstairs. Her period came early and surprised her, and she hoped Derek's mom had supplies, but she still wanted me to have a fun night. Not like I can have much fun without my best and only friend. It seems like something that would be weird to tell your male friend, but that's just how close we are.

I try to think of who else I could talk to. Really the only other person that I would possibly consider a friend, out of who's here at least, would be Peyton Peacock. And after all, some of the girls on the soccer team are pretty cute.

I make my way downstairs to talk to Peyton and the girls. I use my fair share of cheesy pickup lines before they start playing a game called Kiss, Marry, Kill. They go through a few jock guys from various sports until finally they get to Malcolm, Derek, and Brian. Malcolm's the quarterback of the football team, obviously, Derek's on the basketball team, and Brian's on both, though he doesn't get near as much credit as the other two. Rosie answers the question like it's no big deal, but Peyton's a stuttering mess.

Soon enough, the two of them go off to place some bets on who will end up with who. I notice Peyton doesn't put her five dollars in the box of money. After all, it's not like Derek will see or care. Knowing Peyton, she probably "doesn't want to fund his shenanigans." Though I do wish she hadn't gone over to the bet table in the first place, because now here I am, trying to pretend I have literally any game while surrounded by a herd of cute jock girls.


	4. Chapter 4 - Whodunnit?

**Scarlet's POV**

Too much has happened tonight. I came to flirt with Derek. Instead Malcolm flirted with me. Derek kissed Cherry. Cherry acted like nothing happened. I was in Derek's room with five other kids who also had a reason to hate him. And now he's dead.

I know I'm going to be questioned. We all are. Me, Malcolm, Wilma, Peyton, Percival, Gunner. Gunner. He came up to me in the ambulance, checking on me. I don't know why, but I did appreciate it. I should probably return the favor and make sure he's okay.

"Hey."

"Oh, hi," he responds, startled. He seems to be scratching his back, but it looks kind of weird, like he's adjusting something. He's probably just nervous. A lot has happened tonight.

"T-thanks for making sure I was okay earlier," I sputter out. "That-that meant a lot."

"Oh, um, thanks. I mean you too! I mean you're welcome!"

I smile just a little. He wipes a tear from my cheek. "You should come over to my house after we're done here. I know how you felt about Derek. I want you to be okay. A-are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," I sigh. "Thanks for the offer, but I… I just… you know what? Sure."

He smiles, and I do too. And more than just a little.

 **Mustard's POV**

I see Sasha talking to Gunner. I shouldn't be jealous of him, especially considering the fact that my "best friend" just died, but I am. Oh well. Maybe it's just a platonic thing. Yet I've never met a guy who ceased to be amazed by Sasha Scarlet.

She's even more beautiful without all of that makeup. I've always loved her vulnerability, proof that she actually is human and not some perfect goddess who fell from Heaven. I'm hopelessly in love with Sasha Scarlet's imperfections.

Gunner wipes a tear off of her face, and I feel my body tense up with jealousy. _Why?_ I think. _Why can't she just notice me?_

I hear a voice from behind me.

"Hey."

"Oh, hi Peyton." She stares into my hazel eyes with her turquoise ones, which are glistening with tears, just like everyone else here.

"Thanks for checking in on me earlier. You're a really nice guy, Malcolm."

"Oh! Um, you're welcome."

She catches me staring off to where Gunner has a protective arm around Sasha. "You love her, don't you? Is that why you were up there? Derek did something, didn't he? And you didn't want Sasha getting hurt."

I gulp. "Yeah."

"Yeah."

We both stand there, awkward silence consuming us. "Well," Peyton sighs, "I just wanted to say thank you. That was - that was really cool of you to make sure I was okay. You were right. Most people just assume I am. So… thank you."

I shrug. "Just trying to do the right thing. You were the damsel in distress. I knew you needed me."

Her pretty smile fades. "I may want your affection, Malcolm Mustard, but I will never need you to save me from same fairytale world." She turns and walks away to comfort Wilma, who's once again crying uncontrollably, leaving me to stare awkwardly at the back of her head.

 **White's POV**

"Are you okay?" Peyton asks me. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when she lays her left hand on my right shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

"I guess…"

"Hey, Mr. Jock over there may have a few things to learn, but he was right about one thing. The one's who are the least okay pretend they are. Admit it. You'll feel better, I promise."

"Fine," I sigh. "I'm not okay. Derek's dead. I'm covered in blood. I saw my classmate, a jerkbag nonetheless, but still my classmate, die. I'm not okay."

"What'd I tell you?" she forces a smile and wraps her arm around me. I pull her desperately into a hug, and she cradles my head in her arms.

"You'll be okay. You'll be okay."

"Thank you, Peyton."

"Anytime."

The doctor walks back into the room. "You kids can go home now. Your parents have been notified about everything that's happened tonight. I must warn you, you will be questioned. But that's not our job. That's for the police. I suggest you take this night to calm your nerves. If you start to feel anxious, just take deep breaths."

 _Yes, because that totally cures anxiety._

"Well, I think that's it. You may go ahead and call your parents to come pick you up, and you are free to go."

I call my dad to come and pick me up, a mess from everything that's happened tonight, and we drive home.

 **Peacock's POV**

How? How could he have the nerve to call me a damsel in distress, to say I needed him? I've got myself, and that's all I need. I don't need some quarterback Prince Charming. But does that stop me from wanting one? Maybe. Or maybe not…

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. My bike's still at Derek's house, which is now a crime scene, so I can't ride that home. I guess I'll just have one of my parents pick me up, or Kara or Rosie. They'll have my back, and I'm sure they'll be worried about me. I hope they're not too worried. They know I'm a tough cookie. But I've never been in a situation like this before.

Almost as if reading my mind, Malcolm approaches me from behind. "Hey, I know you don't need me to comfort you, but you do look like you need a ride?"

"Um, yeah. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Brian's coming to pick me up and take me to his place, since my house is right next to the crime scene."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I thought it would be you taking me. I'm not sure if I exactly trust Brian… with this sort of thing! No offense, but by now I bet he's totally wasted."

"Oh, I'm sure he'd let me drive. He'll understand. But then again, I've had a few drinks myself."

" _You_?"

"Yeah, sure," he remarks with a smile.

"But… you're not like them."

"And whose them?"

"Your friends. Brian, Derek-"

He shakes his head, his wavy blond hair swishing back and forth. He wears the same somehow seductive boy next door smile as always. "No. Derek wasn't my friend."

"You can say that now, but I don't think that's the kind of thing you should say in a court of law."

"True enough. So, about the ride?"

"Sorry Malcolm, but I can't do that. I'll just have Rosie pick me up."

He shrugs. "Alright. Stay safe, m'kay?"

I smile and nod. "M'kay."

He gives me a sudden hug and I grin awkwardly. He walks back over to the corner of the wall and stands there, making a phone call to Brian about the ride. I should probably call Rosie. I pull out my phone and dial her number.

"Rosie?"

"Pey? Oh my God, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Is he…"  
We gulp in unison. "Yeah. He is."

"Oh my-"

"Rosie! I'm alright, I swear. Can you pick me up from the hospital please?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks, Rose."

"Welcome, Pey. See you then."

"Bye."

 **Green's POV**

I hop into Dan's car that he drove down to the hospital for me and drive Sasha Scarlet to my house, something that I never that I'd be doing, but I'm far from complaining.

"Where do you live?" she asks suddenly.

"Huh? Oh, I'm one of those apartments by the school."

She nods. I know a girl like Sasha Scarlet would avoid my neighborhood as much as possible. Not that I choose that anyway. Really it comes down to my mom being a black woman trying to make a living whilst being a single mom. Choice isn't exactly a part of my life.

Almost as on cue, Uptown Girl comes on the radio. I've always loved that song, but it's never really made me think about Scarlet until now. She lives in a world of red lipstick and pearls and her Corvette that she got from her dad for her 16th birthday last summer.

We finally reach my apartment, and Sasha begins to open her door.

"Wait!" I exclaim.

Confused, she sits back down. I walk around to her door and open it for her, holding out my hand. "M'lady."

I never thought a guy like me could ever make Sasha blush, but she does as she takes my hand.

"Um, thanks, Gunner."

"Anytime."

I lead her into the building. We're both still shaking as I open the door to my flat, my mom at the door, arms wide open.

"Gunner! Are you alright, sweetie?"

I run into her arms and start crying. "Yes, mama."

I pull away and she smiles, tears in her eyes, which land on Sasha nearly immediately. "And who's this lovely lady?"

"This is Sasha. She was there, too. In the room with us, I mean. Her and Derek were-" she nudges me, "close. They were close."  
"Oh, dear. That must be awful!" She opens her arms wide once more, now for Sasha. "He was," my mom starts, and I can tell she's trying her best to say something good about Derek, "a very talented athlete." Sasha and I nod in unison.

"We're going to go back to my room, Mom, I mean if that's alright."

She nods. I'm surprised she let us go that easily, without getting worried about us going back to my room, even though all we'll probably do is lay on my bed watching Friends anyway, and my mom must've picked up on that. It's not like I'll get Sasha Scarlet pregnant or anything. Even though she has shown some interest in me tonight, it's still far less possible than one would think.

Sasha and I walk into my room, and I'll admit I'm a bit embarrassed by how messy it is. We both sit down on my bed, and start scrolling through Netflix. "What do you want to watch?"

We scroll through and eventually we start watching Friends, just as I had predicted. We laugh at the funny parts, but there's still tension in the room.

"Man, am I hungry," I whisper.

"I can order a pizza," Sasha says. I had no idea she had heard me.

"You have money?"

"Yeah, of course! Is cheese fine?"

"Sounds good to me."

Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock at the door and Sasha brings the pizza back into my room. We eat a few slices and watch another episode before we both start to feel sleepy. I'm too tired and shaken up by the nights events to clean up, but Sasha heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face and put on some crappy clothes of mine to use as pajamas.

I sigh and change into my pajamas, taking off my binder and shoving it into the nearest drawer. _Can't let Sasha Scarlet see that._

 **Plum's POV**

I rush immediately to Lucy's house, her and my mom both already waiting there for me. I notice immediately that Lucy has tear stains on her face and a purple cast on her forearm. Running over to her, I give her a gentle hug.

"Oh my God, Lucy, are you alright? What happened?"  
"Some of Derek's friends, running up the stairs. All of the commotion. I ended up getting pushed down the stairs and basically trampled, but who cares? Are _you_ alright?"

I shrug with a forced smile. "As alright as I can be."

She curls herself up into my arms, lying her head on my shoulder. I try to stay strong for her, but end up crying warm tears onto her dark hair. Soon she's crying too, handling this whole situation even worse than I am, oddly enough. Is it possible that someone like Lucy could ever miss Derek? Is it possible that _I_ could?

We stay in said position for at least half an hour, myself reminiscing on the night's events. The way Malcolm and Sasha had stood up against Derek, which none of us would have ever expected, especially the two of them themselves. The way Peyton took initiative and held us all together. I had never experienced a night like this before, and I prayed to God above that I never would again.


End file.
